


fate, noun

by Ariette (Capriccioso)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 22:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capriccioso/pseuds/Ariette
Summary: Sam tries to resolve his brother's emotional constipation when it comes to everyone's favourite blue-eyed angel, the way little brothers do: annoyingly.





	fate, noun

**Author's Note:**

> This is part one of three but I don't plan to finish it.

fate  
fe **ɪ** t/  
noun  
**1.**  
the development of events outside a person's control, regarded as predetermined by a supernatural power  
**2.**  
Samuel Winchester

“So let me get this straight ...”

Sam snickered at his brother’s unintentional pun and got a pillow to the face for his efforts.

“This ghost appears to only haunt homosexual couples?” Castiel asked dubiously.

“Oh gross Samantha. You know you’re trying to pick up an angel, right?” Dean seemed more upset than the situation warranted, which was just perfect for Sam’s intentions.

“Actually, I need to be here to help Bobby with some research ... so it’s on you two.” Sam tried to hide his glee, he really, really did. Trying is not the same thing as succeeding.

Which was how Dean found himself sitting in his fed get-up in a way too nice restaurant across from a bewildered angel. Who looked fucking nice in a suit, go figure. This was doing nothing for Dean’s ‘look but don’t touch’ policy regarding dudes, and he solemnly vowed to put pink dye in Sam’s shampoo when they got back.

Cas studied the menu dubiously. “I couldn’t even begin to guess what any of these things taste like,” he muttered, sounding forlorn.

It was so fucking cute that it did nothing for Dean’s ‘no feelings for your best friend’ policy either. “Yeah well. It doesn’t matter. Pick whatever.” So maybe he was extra grouchy, sue him. Easily eighty percent of his mind were occupied with not thinking about certain things, Cas was lucky Dean still spoke coherent words.

Cas frowned. “Dean, we are supposed to be on a date.”

“To trick the ghost, Cas. That homophobic son of a bitch’s too far gone to tell if we’re having a good time or not.”

“But all of the couples that were attacked did. I think we should ..: act closer.”

Dean turned immediately scarlet. His mind went from holding hands to kissing chapped lips to Cas’ rough voice whispering dirty, dirty things into his ear in two seconds flat. Nope. No. Nope. He made a strangled noise and escaped the restaurant before they could even order.

When Cas followed him outside, the ghost jumped them.

They chased him off with salt bullets, met up with Sam to do some research on where his grave was, salted and burned that motherfucker and left town that same evening.

(Dean jerked off to the things he imagined in that restaurant for weeks after, and in his more shameful moments dared think what it would have been like if he’d been on a real date with Cas. He was grumpy and short-tempered and the store was all out of pink dye so Sam’s hair was green for two days.)

Sam, newly brunette once more, had a more devious plan this time around. And maybe it was a tiny bit revenge for the green hair. But mostly it was a plan to make his brother’s life better. Promise.

Dean was in the shower, blissfully unaware that Sam had snuck in and stolen every scrap of fabric in the bathroom. 

“Okay, Cas, I need to you to stand here.”

Cas tilted his head at Sam from the spot Sam had directed him to. “Don’t ask any questions, just ... stand there.”

And then Sam slipped out of the motel room because he really didn’t need to be anywhere near that particular clusterfuck.

Dean had been waiting for his brother’s retaliation for the hair dye thing, had actually hoped it could spark a prank war that would distract him from thoughts of a certain blue-eyed angel who shall remain nameless. But when he got out of the shower and found all towels as well as both his dirty and fresh clothes missing, he was sort of disappointed. That was hardly a prank anymore; it’s not like Dean was body-shy and the only one likely to get an eyeful was Sam himself.

Or so he thought until he opened the bathroom door and met curious blue eyes.

Dean felt like all the air had been punched out of him. Here he stood naked, dripping wet, faced with a slowly blushing angel. And ... did Cas’ gaze just slip down? Oh. Yup, that was definitely Cas checking him out. Whoa.

Dean made a squeaking noise somewhere high in his throat, and Cas eyes fixed on his face instantly, which was good because then he would miss Dean’s semi. Cas’ cheeks were red and his pupils blown, but his voice was steady when he spoke.

“I apologize, Dean, your brother told me to stand here and ... wait. I should have asked more questions.”

And then he disappeared.

Dean stood there dumbly for ten seconds, replaying the way Cas’ eyes had slid over his body.

Well, he knew he was one good-looking son of a bitch, but now he could say his body literally tempted angels out of heaven.

He blamed the hysterical giggling on shock and resolved to punch Sam.

Sam, freshly punched, wasn’t giving up yet. He’d watched his brother give up everything for him over and over and he’d wondered how to repay him. And then he’d noticed the way Dean’s eyes lingered on Cas with undeniable longing and The Plan was born.

The Plan was an easy three-step solution. Step 1: Embarrass Dean into admitting his feelings to himself. Step 2: Embarrass Dean into admitting his feelings to Cas. Step 3: Attend the wedding.

Judging from Dean’s furious scowling, Step 1 was a success.


End file.
